Page 34 of Fragmented Illusions
I bolt across the green grass, which is damp from the rain still drizzling from the sky. My shoes squeak as I run and I feel the water soak into them, but it doesn’t stop me nor slow me down.
I need to be alone before I crack—and I know I will.
By the time I get to the apartment building, I’m soaked from head to toe due to the light drizzle of rain turning into a torrential downpour, just like I thought it would.
Lucky fucking me.
I press the up button on the elevator and wait for the doors to open to take me to the apartment. Once they slide open, I step in, press the number four for our floor and wrap my arms around myself as I wait. My leg taps on the elevator floor rapidly, the only outward sign of my impatience. At least I’m still all alone.
I just want to be alone.
No, you don’t.
I shove my key in the door lock and twist, pushing it open. I walk into the darkened room and shove the door shut behind me, jumping at the sound of it slamming and rattling the picture frames on the wall.
I don’t bother flicking on any lights as I make my way to my room, and once I step inside I heave a sigh of relief. My bedroom is the only place where I can truly be me.
I pull off my wet clothes, struggling a bit as they cling to my skin. They drop to the floor with a wet plop, and I don’t even bother picking them up before I crawl under my thick comforter, curling into a ball and shutting my eyes.
I need to be alone for a little while.
“Wake up, pretty girl,” a voice whispers next to my ear.
I shiver and furrow further into my blanket, not liking the direction my dream is taking me.
A hot finger trails down my temple, across my cheek bone and stopping at my lips.
It feels so real.
I’m paralyzed.
“She’s a heavy sleeper. I don’t know if that’s good for us or not.” The voice chuckles quietly and I feel a hot breath puff across my shoulder.
I scrunch my eyes tighter and yank my blanket above my head.
I don’t like this dream. It’s making me feel things I don’t want to feel. Things I really shouldn’t be feeling.
This is how my night terrors always go, though. I’m awake, completely conscious, but I’m paralyzed. Stuck in my own head, forced to experience the entirety of my deepest fears.
“Fallon.”
My eyes shoot open wide at that deep, commanding voice. I stare at the underside of my blanket as my breath stutters in my lungs before quickly kicking into overdrive. My hot breath blows back at me as it ricochets off of my blanket, overheating my already boiling skin.
I opened my eyes. It’s over, it’s over.I repeat to myself continually as I slow my breathing, feeling my body begin to relax again. That was one of the most realistic dreams I have ever felt—but I’m awake now.
“Fallon.”
That voice again.
I scrunch the blanket tighter in my fist, my breath escaping my lungs entirely. My meds must have stopped working and they came back.
They couldn’t have. They couldn’t.
I’m perfect now.
I fought so hard to be perfect. I can’t lose it all now.
A cool breeze whips across my body as my blanket is ripped off of me. A scream tears out of my throat, and I shoot up, forcing my body backwards, only stopping when my spine jars against my headboard.
